The Mystery Of London High
by iguanablogger
Summary: /AU/ Ciel Phantomhive is starting his first year of high school against his will, and no one grinds that fact into his face more frequently than Sebastian Michaelis, the school's English Literature teacher. However, when demonic pentacles are discovered painted on the hallway lockers, it's up to the duo to solve the mystery...and do some homework along the way.
1. Prologue

September 1889

London, Great Britain

Rain; thunder; lightning. Each one added its own unique element to the storm raging above the stewing mess of town below.

Lost in the deep cacophony of noise were two pairs of rapid, splashing footsteps. One set belonged to a panicked man, his face slick with a solution of sweat and rainwater. His brown eyes were wide and wild and, despite being drenched to the bone, his cheeks burned red as he panted.

Behind him sprinted the second pair of feet. They belonged to a young boy; he could have been twelve, but the voice that left his throat sounded older.

"Stop running!"

It was a command, but it went unheeded. The pistol in the pursuer's hand glinted as if to commend that choice.

Eventually the chase ended. The prey could keep his pace no longer, and he doubled up. His hands found purchase on his knees, and ragged gasps of air dragged themselves through his lungs.

"It's over, O'Connen," The boy gasped, leveling his weapon.

O'Connen said nothing. In the distance, the storm filled in for his silence.

"Did you honestly think you could get away with such treason?"

A flicker of light illuminated the traitor's face, and he smiled even though he still coughed with every breath.

"At least I'm no guard dog-"

No sum of thunder or lightning could've masked the resulting gunshot. It rippled through the clouds like a challenge.

And a body fell to the ground.


	2. ACT I

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_**ACT ONE**_

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	3. In The Morning, His Pupil, Freshman

September 2012

Madison County, Ohio

It wasn't very much of a scenery change, if Ciel was going to attempt to comfort himself. At least the brown foliage and gray skies remained the same as they were in England. Still, he found it increasingly difficult to believe that the city he'd relocated to actually called itself 'London'.

Ciel continued his life of imposed ignorance until his guardian, Sebastian, pointed out that September had come. This meant that Ciel would now be attending ninth grade at a local high school. At first, the boy's reaction had been similar: suspended disbelief and skepticism. Unfortunately, now that he was locked in a moving vehicle with his caretaker, that level of incredulity was becoming hard to maintain.

"It'll be fine," Sebastian assured him, flicking his right-turn signal, "You're going to love it."

Ciel didn't see that question as answer-worthy, and so he stayed silent. After Sebastian pulled the car to a halt in front of the school's entrance however, Ciel felt the need to infer:

"It's nothing like Weston."

Sebastian considered this comment as he climbed out of the black Lexus and examined his place of employment at length. True, the building's shabby bricks and dusty windows had nothing on Weston Middle School's marble cornerstones and glass doorways, but it was an honest setup; sturdy.

"No," The English teacher chuckled and pulled his bag from the backseat, "Nothing like Weston."

The two Brits made their way up the school's steps and into the entrance hall, which reeked of lemon-scented soap. Upon reaching the closest stairwell, Sebastian turned to his companion and said:

"Listen, Mister Phantomhive."

Ciel looked up at him with narrow eyes.

"You'll need to go to the office and pick up your folder. Inside you'll find your class schedule, instructors, and room numbers. Keep those handy." Sebastian paused to inhale, "Now, I have a class to teach, so I won't be as accessible as usual. East wing, second floor, room two-oh-six, if you need me."

"I'm not a child, Sebastian. And you're not my father." Ciel replied coldly, "I can take care of myself."

The elder man smiled, "Glad to hear it, Mister Phantomhive."

"What's this 'Mister Phantomhive' business?"

"Just an effort to avoid nepotism." Sebastian answered as he pushed open the door to the stairway.

Ciel let out a grunt of irritation. Then he turned about in the hall, searching for signs of the 'office' place Sebastian mentioned.

"Ah, there," he murmured as he caught sight of a windowed room with a label on its door. As he approached, he thought to himself, "Ninth grade isn't that hard. I'll be fine on my own. I'll be fine…"

-TT-

"Goodness, what happened to your face!" Was the nurse's immediate reaction to Ciel's entering her workspace.

"I cun esbain," Ciel mumbled through swollen, stinging lips.

"Oh," A hand moved to cover her mouth and her eyes widened with horror. However, the nurse was beside him within moments, ushering him into a seat.

"Here, take these," she handed him two white pills and a cup of water, "It'll help the swelling."

The little Phantomhive was quick to toss the medication in his mouth and swallow. The bitter taste didn't both him as much as it should have.

"What did you eat?" Asked the nurse.

"Sunbower seebs," Ciel answered, blinking slowly. His whole face felt hot and clammy, and his eyes were practically roasting in their sockets.

The nurse vanished into the backroom for a moment, leaving Ciel in his chair beside a white cloth curtain. The ninth grader heaved a sigh and shook his head.

Morning had passed by completely without incident. He'd made his way to the office and collected his folder, just as Sebastian said. He proceeded to his homeroom, where a curious fellow named 'Alois' immediately befriended him.

Alois appeared to be a likable enough boy, with a brush of wheat colored hair, wide blue eyes and dashes of freckles. He'd even been kind enough to assist Ciel with classroom orientation, organizing his locker and taking efficient notes. Ciel might've considered that a successfully kindled friendship, if not for the sunflower seed event.

Apparently, there was a very good reason why no one else opted to take the homeroom seat next to Alois'. While the boy was smart, lovely, and prone to kindness...he was also slightly insane.

Ciel had been very harmlessly munching on his tuna sandwich during the lunch hour when Alois grabbed the cafeteria bench across from him. It was soon revealed that Alois had brought no lunch of his own, instead choosing to live through the day on a bag of roasted sunflower seeds. Ciel didn't even get a chance to bring up his allergies before Alois was popping them into his mouth. The little Phantomhive couldn't even imagine why. In fact, the experience was something traumatic for him: having a seemingly rational individual your age suddenly pounce upon you and shove seeds down your throat.

In any event, Ciel's allergies stirred and led him to the nurse's office, where he now sat dejectedly like a deflated balloon.

"Would you like me to call your parents?" Asked the young woman to whom he'd entrusted his health.

"Dat woub be radder dibbiculd, as dey're in Englanb." Ciel replied as intelligently as possible, running a finger under his nose.

The nurse ignored him and studied the orange slip of paper in her hands, "Your emergency contacts sheet lists a Mister Michaelis...?"

"No, Bon'd caw dim," Ciel protested, "I'b bine."

"I'll get him down here right away."

Ciel groaned and hid his tender head in his hands. He could already imagine the English teacher's smug face and the pride-slathered 'I told you so' that would follow.

Fortunately, the little Phantomhive was not left to wallow in misery for very long. A sneeze from behind the curtain startled him from his seat.

"Hebo?" He called out. There was no response.

He yanked a tissue from the box on the nurse's desk and attempted to make himself presentable. As soon as Ciel felt confident enough to speak in comprehensible sentences, he approached the cloth curtain. A quick jerk and it fell back, revealing a dark-skinned man resting on a bed.

"You alright?" Ciel asked.

The other sickie sat up, careful not to disturb the sling containing his right arm. He turned to Ciel with bruised, brown eyes and a grimace-like smile.

"I will be," He responded. His accent was clearly neither American nor British, but more Asian in tone. Perhaps Indian. At the sight of Ciel's bloated features, the boy's eyebrows rose and he said: "Holy _Ganesha, _what's become of your face?"

Ciel's expression darkened as he answered, "Sunflower seeds."

"Ah, you're allergic, then. You are very lucky to have received medication; allergies are dangerous!"

"I know," Ciel replied, somewhat doubtful that he was the worse for wear in this situation. The poor man's face was lined with blue and yellow blotches. "So what happened to you?"

The Indian grew sheepish, "Got caught in a fight."

"A fight?" Ciel repeated, pulling up his chair and taking a seat beside the bed, "between whom?"

"It's embarrassing, but... a group of girls were picking on a friend of mine. I stood up to defend her and, well..." He paused and shrugged his one mobile shoulder, "...I received something of a beating."

"From a gaggle of girls?" Ciel almost laughed.

His fellow chuckled good-naturedly and changed the subject, "I've never seen you before. You new here, kid?"

"Yeah, ninth grade. Ciel Phantomhive."

The other student nodded and extended a hand: "Soma Asman Kadar."

"I take it you're Indian?" Prodded Ciel, accepting the gesture.

"American, actually. My parents are Indian, as well as my cousin who is here for university. My hope is that he'll take me back to India when he graduates. I'd like to meet my extended family."

"What grade are you in?"

Soma grinned, "Eleventh, kid. I'd be happy to take a little lost freshie like you under my wing, just so you know."

"Thanks," Ciel shuddered, "But I'll be fine on my own."

Their conversation came to a halt when the nurse reentered the office, Mister Michaelis directly behind her.

"Oh dear," Sebastian lamented as he crouched down and examined Ciel's puffy cheeks, "Mister Phantomhive, what have you done to yourself?"

"Bugger off," Ciel responded, slapping his guardian's hand away. Soma watched their interaction curiously.

All turned to stare as Sebastian pulled something from his pocket. It looked at first to be a small pen, but was soon proven to be an injector of sorts. Sebastian offered it to Ciel in an open palm.

"You had this with you?" Mister Phantomhive asked, surprised.

"Someone forgot to take it to school with him," Sebastian explained, rolling his eyes, "Honestly, if I couldn't even remember that one of my students suffers from life threatening allergies, what sort of teacher would I be?"

Ciel said nothing, instead taking the epipen and applying it independently. At first he felt unaffected, but sure enough the boy soon found his breath coming easier and his face cooled.

"You could've been hospitalized for a reaction like that," the English teacher warned. He was irritated, but Ciel couldn't say for certain whom at. "but I think you'll be fine for now."

"I would feel better if someone were keeping an eye on you…"

"I can do it!" Came a shout from the bed.

At this, the whole room flipped its attention to the beaming Indian boy with the sling.

"Ciel can come with me to my next class. I'll look after him like a little brother."

"I don't think-" Ciel tried to protest, but Sebastian had that relieved twinkle in his eyes.

"Ah, I recognize you. Kadar, sophomore year?"

"Junior, now, sir."

"Forgive me," Sebastian smiled, "I've yet to adjust to the new curriculum. What class do you take next period, Mister Kadar?"

Soma's face fell. Though soon vacancy turned to puzzlement as the eleventh grader struggled to recall his schedule. In the end, Sebastian and Ciel were forced to wait as the Indian flopped from his bed and fished through his backpack. A few moments later, Soma emerged from his hunt clutching a green piece of paper.

"Ah, here we are!" He cheered, unfolding the note and scanning it greedily.

"What does it say? What class do you have?" Ciel pressed anxiously. Fourth period was practically over by now, and he didn't fancy being late to his next lesson.

Soma exclaimed, "English Literature!"

Ciel felt his stomach plummet into his shoes. Bile crept up his esophagus, and this time it wasn't because of something he ate.

In contrast, Sebastian's smile became a long and toothy grin.

"Splendid," He remarked in a delighted whisper.


	4. At Noon, His Pupil, Humiliated

Ciel rapidly tapped his fingers on the flimsy desk's surface. He couldn't believe any school would budget writing tables so poor in structure, but this seemed to be a particularly good day for disbelief. The class of people three years his senior murmured and buzzed; Ciel felt their eyes turning to rest on him many a time. Still, he had to count his blessings: at least he'd managed to get away from Soma. The moment Ciel entered the classroom he'd made a dive for the back row of desks. He doubted Soma could even see him back here.

At the front of the room, Sebastian silently wrote on a long whiteboard. He appeared to be drawing a timeline, dated from ten thousand BCE to about two thousand CE. No one paid him any heed. In the corner of the board, scripted in perfectly aligned letters, read the label, 'History of Great Britain'.

Self-consciousness settled around Ciel's shoulders like an extremely uncomfortable jacket. The juniors were shameless in their poking, prodding, glaring, anything to tease a response from him. Ciel could do nothing but blame Sebastian over and over again for sticking him in this classroom. That man just couldn't help himself when it came to making his ward's life miserable.

Suddenly, a short burst of clapping sounded from the head of the class. Attention turned to the teacher, who Ciel now noticed had donned a pair of glasses.

"Good afternoon," Greeted the Englishman, "and welcome to eleventh grade English literature. I am your instructor, Mister Michaelis- though you may call me Sebastian."

"Now, before we begin there are a few matters I would like to discuss." Sebastian said. He retrieved an item from his desk that must have been a pointer, but looked suspiciously like a riding crop.

"First and foremost," Sebastian began firmly, "I have been hired to teach; therefore I expect you to learn. You will come to class in a timely manner, you will bring the required materials, and you will be seated when the lesson begins."

"Like hell," Whispered a voice behind Ciel.

Sebastian paused and narrowed his eyes in Ciel's direction. Ciel repressed a shiver.

The Englishman resumed, tossing the pointer between his hands playfully, as though testing its weight: "I've never been a lenient teacher. I will not tolerate late work or excuses, but even more so-"

"Hardass."

"Psycho."

Ciel tried not to smirk as Sebastian blanched. The little Phantomhive was used to his caretaker's enhanced senses; they were a strange talent of his, in fact. Sebastian's hearing and sight were both beyond excellent. Ciel wondered how much more abuse their instructor would take before he snapped.

Sebastian waited for the muttering to die out before finishing, "-even more so, I will not tolerate a disorganized classroom. I expect each of your mouths to be shut while mine is open, understood?"

He received no response other than sullen silence. Sebastian adjusted his spectacles and wiped the irritation from his face.

"Perfect. Shall we begin?"

Unfortunately, the level of interest Sebastian secured from his students at the initiation of the class dropped substantially the moment he started to teach. The edge of his pointer connected with the board with a soft 'click'.

Sebastian's lesson commenced:

"As one of the oldest countries in the world, Great Britain possesses a rich and cultured history. Can anyone tell me approximately when that history began?"

A hand went up at the front of the room, successfully drawing Sebastian's attention away from Ciel's talkative neighbors.

Ciel watched his guardian teach from a distance, somewhat awed. He'd always known Sebastian to be a severe person, but as a teacher he seemed even more professional. Seeing him whip the boisterous classroom into quiet submission almost made Ciel feel...proud.

"Hey,"

A tapping sensation on Ciel's arm brought his gaze down, where a junior's fingers grasped the edge of his shirt. Ciel looked into the boy's face.

"You a new kid?"

Before Ciel could answer, two other whispers voiced themselves:

"He's way too young to be in his third year of high school."

"Maybe he's a super genius or something?"

"I assure you that's not the case, Mister Anstic." Sebastian remarked loudly from the first row of desks. Ciel's eyebrows rose as the boy seated to his left coughed discreetly.

"Now if you don't mind..."

With the student's perceived permission, Sebastian turned back to his writing. The dry-erase marker in his hand squeaked terribly as it printed, as though being pressed too snugly against the board.

One-thirty English Literature continued uninterrupted for about fifteen minutes. It was in the heat of a discussion concerning ancient druids and pagans that the whispers kicked up again.

"You know, he looks sort of like Mister Michaelis."

"Think they're related?"

"Oh my god, what if he's his son?"

A sudden crack snapped through the room like a gunshot. Instantly, the students faced forward, each white with fear.

Sebastian had broken his pointer.

"I would have you know that I am not Ciel Phantomhive's father."

The hush sagged with tension as several pairs of brows knitted together.

"However," Mister Michaelis trailed off. He hesitated and took a moment to remove his glasses, "As you are all so infernally curious about us, I will admit to being his half-brother."

Ciel's jaw dropped and a storm of murmurs swept the class. The boy's skin heated and his eyes grew wide. What was that blasted fool doing?

"It's true," Sebastian's voice quieted the others, as everyone was eager to hear more, "I was thirteen when my father passed away. A year later, my mother remarried and bore a son."

Mortification boiled in Ciel's blood as a couple of girls cooed affectionately. He swore his face must've turned purple by now, as livid as he was. If there were six sets of eyes on him before, there were triple that amount now.

"Mister Phantomhive suffered an allergy attack about thirty-five minutes ago," Sebastian proceeded, cleaning his lenses with his fingers, "So I had Mister Kadar look after him for this period. It was pure happenstance that Kadar was scheduled to take my subject next."

The hisses morphed into voices and questions. Sebastian gave the students their slack and allowed them several minutes to gossip amongst themselves. He leaned against the teacher's table and sighed. Meanwhile, Ciel threw his head on his desk and covered it with his arms. His only comfort was that no one could see his face-, which was a good thing, as he was now seriously considering wearing a paper bag for the rest of the year.

"So, now that I've assuaged your curiosity," The English teacher said, replacing his glasses and straightening to full height, "Perhaps we might return to the topic at hand."

Whether it was respect for Sebastian's honest, or the fact that there was nothing more to speculate on, the classroom was much quieter for the remainder of the lesson. There was one short row in which the class was nearly hijacked by an obnoxiously noisy pupil, but Sebastian was swift to quell the chaos with threats of twenty-four page essays.

Eventually the hands on the clock swung around and day one of eleventh grade English Lit came to its conclusion.

"Are there any questions?" Asked Sebastian as he screwed the cap onto his dry erase marker.

No one had any.

"Very well. Dismissed."

The students rose from their seats in a cacophony of squeaks and groans. However, Sebastian had one more thing to say before he allowed anyone to leave:

"Oh, and no Miss Magen, I am not married. Miss Lonski, I do not have a girlfriend. Yes, Miss Lay, people have told me before that my eyes are striking, and Miss Bowsman I cannot rightly say whether or not my ass is 'a sweet, hot little thing'."

Sebastian smiled innocently, "And yes, Miss Tores, the accent is natural."

Ciel couldn't help being impressed, and he almost burst out laughing when the called-out girls waddled by like a parade of tomatoes. A cruel notion, he realized, when he remembered the humiliation Sebastian had caused him personally during the period.

A devil, that's what he is, Ciel thought bitterly as he exited the classroom. A haughty, attention-seeking devil.

-TT-

"Is Mister Michaelis really your half-brother?" Soma wondered as he dragged Ciel to his next class, "Is that why you two are so close?"

"Yes, we share the same mother-" Ciel replied breathlessly, winded from the effort of swimming through the crowded hallway, "-Soma, wait!"

"Why?"

The Indian pulled to halt and frowned down at his companion, "We can't dally, Ciel. We'll be marked late."

"I shouldn't be following the eleventh grade curriculum," Ciel gasped, clutching his side, "I'm not even supposed to have English Lit this year."

"I promised Mister Michaelis I'd keep an eye on you." Soma argued.

"But I'm not in your class! And I can look after myself."

Soma let out a huff of frustration and snatched Ciel by the arm, "Hurry up or we'll be late."

"No, stop!" Ciel protested, thrashing about wildly in an attempt to escape, "This isn't right!"

"Be quiet and stop struggling! Professor Tanaka deducts half a grade for tardiness!"

"I'm not going through that again!"

"Ciel Phantomhive?"

Both students ceased battling and turned to stare. A young girl of average height approached with a somewhat bewildered expression.

"Er, yes?" Ciel fidgeted, faintly trying to remove Soma's hand from his collar.

"What are you doing?" Asked the newcomer in concern, "We have to get to Algebra, quickly."

"Oh!" Ciel exclaimed happily and ducked from Soma's grip, "You're in ninth grade, too?"

"Of course," The green-eyed female replied, "Don't you recognize me from homeroom? It's me, Lizzy."

Now that he thought about it, Ciel did recall seeing a pig-tailed blonde in class that morning. He'd borrowed a pen from her.

"Yes, that's right," Ciel agreed enthusiastically. He leapt forward and grabbed Lizzy's free hand, announcing, "We'd better get to our _ninth_ _grade Algebra class_ then, hadn't we, Lizzy?" He made certain to put special emphasis the latter portion of his proclamation.

The girl nodded, though her lip quivered with uncertainty.

"Cheers, Soma!"

Unfortunately, Ciel's victory and newfound freedom was short-lived. Only a few yards from the classroom a shoelace came undone and the little Phantomhive plummeted face-first into the ground.

"Ciel!" Lizzy gasped, stooping to help him.

"Go," Ciel told her earnestly, "I'll be fine. But I wouldn't want you to get marked late."

Lizzy seemed very unhappy, but she did as she was asked. Ciel scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for room two-twenty-seven.


	5. In The Afternoon, His Pupil, Exhausted

Ciel managed to slip in and shut the door just as the final bell pronounced sentence on all students not in their correct classes. He rested against the wood frame for a moment, catching his breath.

Which turned out to be a waste of time, because it all left his lungs the moment he laid eyes on his Algebra teacher.

"You must be the illustrious Mister Phantomhive." The tall, pale skin man commented without a drop of emotion.

"Y-yes." Ciel gulped.

"Late to the first class of the year?" The teacher shook his dark-haired head and gave a disapproving 'tsk', "That's hardly good form."

Ciel wondered if he should apologize or simply stay silent. Both seemed to be the wrong choice.

"Well, have a seat then."

When Ciel found that he'd lost the will to move, his mentor grew even more irritated.

"Go on, go on."

Something about the man's stern stance and dreary voice reminded Ciel of Sebastian, but the ninth grader tried hard to push all thoughts of that devil from his mind. He would have enough to worry about without adding his meddling half-brother to the mix.

"Good afternoon," Announced the Algebra professor, "my name is Mister Faustus, and I will be instructing you in Algebra-one this year."

Ciel settled in his seat as Mister Faustus flatly covered classroom rules and conduct, as well as the syllabus. He put in a sincere effort to focus on the teacher's words, but for some reason he was finding it hard to concentrate. An itching sensation tugged at his eyes and his nose tingled numbly.

After his introduction, Mister Faustus copied a few problems onto the board.

"Write the answers to these problems on a sheet of notebook paper," He ordered, "It's fine if you cannot solve them. This is meant to test how much arithmetic you've retained from Middle School."

The little Phantomhive nodded and pulled a pencil from his pocket. However, in his haste to flee from Soma, he'd failed to retrieve any form of notebook.

Ciel frantically attempted to get a hold of one of his deskmates, shooting out hissed requests for sheets of loose-leaf. But he was wholly ignored; either because the equations required complete concentration or everyone was too terrified of Mister Faustus to dare speak in class.

"Is there a problem, Phantomhive?"

Ciel winced as the hairs at the base of his neck bolted to attention. He could feel an ominous, looming presence behind him. Slowly, the student turned around to face the frigid, heart-stopping stare of Mister Faustus.

Ciel croaked, "Er, I don't have any p-paper to write on."

The Algebra professor's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Late to class and unprepared." He brought his thumb and index finger up to adjust his glasses, "One wonders if there is any hope for you at all."

Although Ciel opened his mouth to apologize, Mister Faustus left before any of his words were vocalized. As there was no response following that, Ciel was forced to assume he'd just been warned. What would happen should he disregard the warning, or what the warning pertained to were mysteries the ninth grader was too afraid to unravel.

Mister Faustus spent a minute poring over the results of the pop quiz at his desk. Then he took a binder from his bag, opened it up and shifted through a number of transparent papers. Eventually, he pulled out the one he was looking for and inserted it into an overhead projector, which cast the image onto the board for all to see.

"We shall begin with the basics of Algebraic equations. I expect each of you to take notes; there will be a quiz on Thursday."

Ciel sucked in a shallow breath through his teeth and tightened his grip on the pencil in his hand. Again, he tried to rally his focus, but his eyes were itching horribly at this point, and he swore his cheeks were numb.

If his eyelids could only fall for a minute or two, perhaps he'd be able work better…

A chill snaked through the room and brushed Ciel's arms, causing him to shiver. The little Phantomhive rectified this by folding his arms on his desk and lowering his chin to rest on them. This created a sharp sort of pillow, which cradled his itching head and kept him warm. Dimly, Ciel wondered if this tingling was a side effect of his allergy medication.

The class proceeded under Ciel's sideways supervision, and the hands on the clock marched forward. Soon, Mister Faustus turned off a few of the overhead lights so that the projected textbook sheets could be more easily copied. Once the central air turned off and the hum of the projector grew softer, Ciel admitted he was in quite a cozy situation.

Maybe if he slept for just a second…would anyone notice? It wasn't like he was capable of taking notes anyway.

"Ciel…"

It was Sebastian's voice. Ciel wondered when he'd entered the room.

"Wake up…"

This puzzled the ninth grader. He wasn't asleep; he was only resting his head for a little bit.

"Wake up."

Ciel stirred and his eyelashes fluttered. His arms felt locked and sore, and his face felt heated.

"…Sebastian?" He sniffed.

There was the slightest perception of snickering, but it was quickly drowned out by vast silence.

The gravity of the situation did not hit Ciel until a monotonous voice droned in his ear:

"I'm afraid this is Algebra-one, Phantomhive, not Persuasive Writing. Now do wake up."

This was followed by a swift and sharp kick to Ciel's desk. Instantly, the boy's senses flew into alert-mode, throwing him upright. Adrenaline flooded his bloodstream and caused Ciel to whirl about, searching everywhere for the danger his body knew was coming.

But there were no screaming animals, gunfire, or speeding vehicles coming at him. Instead there was only the brooding, horrifyingly quiet Mister Faustus, who now regarded Ciel was one would a pair of moldy socks.

"Honestly. Tardy, unready, and now sleeping in class. No one has ever pleaded so desperately for me to give them a failing grade."

As he was still half asleep, it took Ciel the remainder of the lesson to comprehend the consequences of his encounter. Unfortunately, they soon hit in full force.

When Ciel exited the classroom, he felt fifteen years older than his true age.


	6. In The Evening, His Pupil, On Trial

A slight, almost indiscernible jingling noise sounded when the quarters traded hands. Ciel smiled as the coins filled his pocket, and he was forced to answer:

"I'm sorry, Professor. I just don't know."

"Don't know!" The Physical Science teacher was outraged, "How do you not know the four states of matter?"

Ciel shrugged, but couldn't wipe the triumph from his face. He'd just won the bet twice over.

The boy who'd given Ciel the money sent him a look of pity before returning to his own work. At the beginning of the class period, Ciel flopped into his desk and uttered that his life could not possibly get any worse. Only a fool would've taken that as a wager.

In any event, shortly after the bet was called the ninth grade's overly enthusiastic mentor, Professor Bardroy, picked Ciel as a volunteer in an experiment. That little catastrophe earned Ciel seventy-five cents.

And now just moments ago, Bardroy directed his question (which the students had yet to understand) at Ciel. It was the kind of luck that summoned instant thunderstorms and pimples, really.

Ciel's fingers slid down to his pants and felt for the coins in his pockets. They were a pleasant weight on his hips, promising all sorts of treats and commodities as soon as the period ended...although the way the Professor was waving his arms around made Ciel doubt that the class ended anytime soon.

Before the situation could worsen, the classroom's public-address system suddenly crackled to life. The ninth graders stirred, trying to find the source of the static-muffled voice:

"Would Ciel Phantomhive report to the administrative office? Ciel Phantomhive to the office."

It almost made him want to laugh. As Ciel stood from his seat, the losing boy hissed: "I'm out of quarters."

"Right, off you go then, Phantomhive." Bardroy said, gesturing to the door.

Ciel heaved a heavy sigh as he marched off into the hallway. Even as unpredictable as today had been, he couldn't even begin the fathom the tribulations that awaited him in the near future.

Fortunately, he managed to arrive at the office without getting lost. Within the space of ten minutes, he was standing beside the secretary, requesting instructions.

"Conference room three." She told him, not looking up from her keyboard.

Ciel accepted this minute amount of information and proceeded to the back of the office. He found a door there that led into a short hallway, lined with four entrances. The ninth grader searched until he found the door labeled 'conference room three' and lifted his hand to open it.

However he soon regretted stepping foot inside.

"This is preposterous," Sebastian argued vehemently, "You have no proof."

"He was the last one sitting in it, and I can't have my eyes on every student all of the time." Mister Faustus shot back hotly, "He must have tinkered with it while I taught!"

"Er, excuse me," Ciel waved weakly. Both teachers turned to glare at him ferociously.

"You," Mister Faustus accused quietly, stabbing an index finger at the boy, "You broke the desk in my classroom."

"Pardon?" Ciel begged.

"I have twenty-five students and only twenty-four desks." The Algebra professor explained, "The one you sat in has collapsed."

"Oh," Ciel nodded and bit his lip. "Sorry."

"Sorry-?" Mister Faustus repeated incredulously, but Sebastian was quick to interrupt him.

"This is beyond childish, Claude." Mister Michaelis said, frowning, "Even if he broke it, and you still have no evidence that he did, it's only a desk. I still don't agree with calling him out of class to discuss this."

"I called him out of class because I would like the Headmistress' opinion, _Sebastian_." Claude snarled, putting extra emphasis on his companion's first name.

"And I'm sure she'll see the ordeal the same way we all do: a bitter, unstable man blaming a child for his own incompetence."

"Don't pretend you wouldn't act exactly as I have, Michaelis." Faustus replied warningly. Then his voice took a more hopeless tone as he pressed a hand to his forehead, "God, you're just as self-righteous as you were in college."

"In which, I might remind you, you were vastly unpopular." Sebastian smiled malevolently.

"Dammit, Michaelis!"

True fear spiked Ciel's heart when Mister Faustus' fist hit the conference table. An instinct deep within him commanded him to run, but when he turned around his face collided with someone's midriff.

"Oh, dear," the woman gasped. Ciel looked up at her, terrified.

She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, age wise. She wore a burgundy suit and a curtain of flame-colored hair framed her face. Her eyes were ruby brown, and she gazed upon Ciel in curiosity.

Ciel's eyebrows furrowed in perplexity; she looked vaguely familiar.

"Ah, Headmistress-" Mister Faustus began at once, but to the surprise of all he was interrupted by a giggle.

"What have we here?" The redhead asked playfully as she gripped Ciel's shoulders. Warily, Ciel observed her nails were just as scarlet as the rest of her ensemble.

"Missus Durless," Sebastian greeted with a brief bow, but the Headmistress only laughed.

"Oh, Sebastian, you mustn't stand on formality!"

Ciel let out a strangled yelp as the woman wound an arm around his neck and yanked him to the side. She made her way to Sebastian and threw her other arm around his shoulders, chuckling merrily:

"It's always a pleasure to see my favorite little boys!"

The look on Mister Faustus' face almost made Ciel want to join in the festivities. The Algebra teacher was aghast, at a complete loss for words.

"Please, Ann, this is an important matter." Sebastian pressed, but the Headmistress would hear none of it.

"Ciel! Goodness, how you've grown."

Ciel prepared himself for another crushing hug, but he was not expecting the volley of kisses that landed on his face.

"You were in diapers the last time we met, you know!" Ann grinned and ruffled his hair. Ciel inwardly sulked, wondering drily how much longer his cheeks had to live. "Your mother and I are such good friends; we're practically sisters!"

"I was at her wedding," The redhead recounted, raising a painted finger to her colored lips, "the first one, I'll have you know. Oh dear, I was but a child then myself, even younger than you are now!"

"Headmistress, I'm sorry to interrupt, but-" Claude attempted to cut in, but it was too late. Ann was already swimming in her memories, and every time she glimpsed at Ciel she sank a little deeper.

"Your eyes are exactly like your mother's." She told him sweetly, caressing his face, "I'd completely forgotten you were attending this year; so many applications, so many names, you know how it is."

"Headmistress, please-" Faustus tried again.

Ciel merely stood by timidly, like a deer in the headlights.

"You can't even imagine how overjoyed I was to take Sebastian on as an employee," Ann laughed, "oh, your mother was so grateful. Though I keep telling her, that boy is overflowing with potential. I say he's smart enough to teach calculus, let alone English Literature."

After a quarter hour of reminiscing, Claude succeeded in bringing about the matter at hand. However the Headmistress was eager to side with her adopted family, and Ciel managed to escape relatively unscathed. It wasn't every day he was molested by strangers, but even he had to admit that the Headmistress' affection proved a useful tool.

He was still in a daze when he returned to the Physical Science classroom. Ciel hardly even noticed the pile of quarters stacked on the corner of his desk.


	7. At Midnight, His Pupil, Relieved

Four short bursts of sound, and then a dissonance of squeaks and groans. School was officially out; classes for the day had ended.

Ciel was free.

The relieved ninth grader journeyed to his locker, where he met and bade Lizzy farewell. She was a loveable and caring classmate, and Ciel found himself liking her despite her overbearing nature. She was an improvement over Alois, at any rate (whom Ciel was taking great pains to avoid).

Ciel was so happy to be out of class that he even waved goodbye to Soma when they passed each other in the hallway. Soma waved back and pointed Ciel out to the tall Indian gentlemen escorting him, who smiled indulgently.

The little Phantomhive found it much easier to navigate the school once it was empty of students. He reached Sebastian's classroom on the second floor in less than five minutes.

However it seemed Ciel's presumption that all the students had left was premature. As he neared the room's doorway, he heard Sebastian speaking sternly with what must've been one of his pupils.

The boy tightened his backpack around his shoulders and leaned in the doorframe, keen to get a better view of the situation. His stepbrother stood at his desk, and across from him was a short young woman with odd, cone-shaped hair ornaments.

"…But you can read, correct?" Sebastian was inquiring. Ciel marveled at how tired the man looked- his eyelids sagged, his face was paler than usual, and his lips were a firmly pressed line. It was almost frightening.

The student nodded, and Ciel thought he heard bells jingling.

"If you plan on graduating this year, you'll be required to write an exit paper," Sebastian explained with a sigh, "and to write that paper, you'll need to prove to me that you can wield the English language."

"Don't speak."

The girl's voice was low and monotonous. Threatening, in its own way.

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. Ciel surmised this pupil had given him grief in the past as well.

"Miss Ran-Mao, if you don't prove that you can speak English orally, I cannot give you a passing a grade."

The conversation lapsed into an apprehensive silence. Ciel found it about the right time to make his presence known.

He knocked lightly on the open door and then took a few steps in. Both Sebastian and Ran-Mao turned to greet him.

Ciel couldn't help being taken aback by the shade of the struggling student's eyes. They were bright and golden, like a cat's, and just as fearsome. Though she lacked much in the way of impressive height, Ciel could discern serious power in this girl's composure.

"We will resume this discussion tomorrow."

Ran-Mao nodded solemnly and came about. She marched soundlessly from the room, and for some reason Ciel found himself unwilling to talk until she left.

As soon as the classroom was fully deserted of pupils, Mister Michaelis cracked his knuckles and stretched out his arms. He let out a lengthy yawn and then leaned heavily against the desk, resting his eyes a moment. Ciel couldn't help smiling.

"Had enough, eh?"

Sebastian grinned and lazily opened an eye, "Enough for today."

The two Brits exited the building and walked to the car in quiet contentment. Despite the day's many grueling and oppressive hardships, both were satisfied when the vehicle's engine started and they began their voyage home.

And in spite of all the humiliation and embarrassment Sebastian had caused him that day, Ciel was very glad to be in his company once more.

"One day down," Sebastian yawned again as they pulled out of the school's lot, "Three-hundred more to go."

"Yes, but don't worry," Ciel assured, "you're going to love it."


	8. In The Morning, His Pupil, A Model

The pencil felt smooth and solid in his grip, but Ciel was quick to put it back into the empty orange juice can in the corner of his desk. Of course, he was just as quick to pull it out again, as there was little else to do.

Ten minutes had passed since art class officially began and an instructor was yet to materialize. Ciel simply ignored boredom by sliding pencils between his fingers and tapping his foot, but others were less patient.

"Goodness, what's taking so long?" Lizzy huffed, folding her arms on her desk and sulking dejectedly. The Phantomhive deduced from their lockerside chats that Elizabeth was very much looking forward to taking art this year.

"Calm down, Lizzy," Ciel replied easily, "I'm sure he'll be here soon."

According to the ninth grade schedule in his folder, "Ink, chalk, and clay" was directed by a man listed as 'Doctor Cains'. The name was not familiar; Ciel had no idea what type of artwork he could expect from such an ambiguous title.

"Well, we only have an hour to spend on this a day," Lizzy quipped, rising from her seat, "and I'm not spending it staring at my desk."

The boy did nothing to stop her as Miss Midford marched to the front of the classroom and exited into the hall. He was permitted to sit in lonesome silence as the rest of the class murmured amongst themselves. He resumed sliding the pencil in and out of his hands.

Unfortunately, he did not count on someone crashing into Lizzy's abandoned seat and electing to take permanent residence there. He also did not expect for this person to suddenly lean over and exclaim in an obnoxiously loud tone:

"Good morning, Ciel! How are you?"

After sending a quick prayer to heaven begging god not to be this cruel, the dark-haired boy muttered, "Fine."

"That's great! I've been feeling rather fantastic as well." Alois grinned. His grin slid into something of a curious pout as his eyes swam over Ciel's desk.

"Say, that's a real neat pencil holder!"

Why did this child have to say everything so noisily?

"Mind if I take a look?"

Ciel paused to send Alois a dead stare. Anyone, even a reasonably intelligent animal, could perceive that this glare was not friendly or inviting in the least of ways.

"Go ahead." The Phantomhive replied emotionlessly.

Alois giggled, an act that perturbed Ciel. What fourteen-year-old boy finds it acceptable to giggle? That was all the ninth grader wanted to know as Alois snatched the orange juice can from the desk greedily.

The smaller male wondered just how long a hollow can would keep Mister Trancy amused. Not that he was complaining, because it did return his beloved lonesomeness. Still, it seemed too good to be true.

"Neat." Alois declared, slamming the pencil holder on Ciel's desk with so much unnecessary force that the can crumpled a bit.

"Oops," The blonde giggled again and winced, "sorry."

Ciel scowled and requested that heaven send his prayer back with a refund.

"You know, Ciel, I really enjoyed sitting with you at lunch yesterday. Especially when you did that cool trick with your face and made your eyes all puffy!"

_That wasn't a trick, you dolt,_ Ciel thought to himself. _That was an allergic reaction. _

"So I thought we'd sit together again today." Alois surmised, still baring his toothy smile.

_You do realize 'together' implies mutual consent, _Ciel mentally retorted.

The audacious Trancy leaned even closer, disrupting Ciel's malignant train of thought.

"Only this time," Alois spoke in a low whisper, "I've thought of a new game to play."

Practically on instinct, the Phantomhive popped out of his seat and backed away. He succeeded in bruising his wrists while doing so, but such concerns were far from his mind.

Alois was staring at him, his expression a mixture of hurt and confusion.

"Er," Ciel cleared his throat, "Lizzy left the room a while ago, and she hasn't come back. I think I ought to check on her."

"Oh, brilliant idea!" Alois agreed, "It's about time we went somewhere private."

"I'm sorry, but you can't come with me. Only two students are allowed out at a time while class is in session."

In that moment, Ciel was so grateful that Sebastian had shoved the student handbook down his throat that he almost wanted to kiss the man. It was easy to escape while Alois still reeled from Ciel's blatant rejection. The boy could only hope that his classmate was not the violent sort of psycho.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, it occurred to Ciel that not only was he clueless as to where to locate Doctor Cains, but he didn't even know what he looked like. The doctor could be anyone, any age- any gender.

Ciel groaned a groan of frustration and trudged down the hall. It didn't matter that he had nowhere to go; he'd commit suicide before spending another second sitting beside Alois.

It was while he moped about in hopelessness that the boy collided with an obtrusively larger body.

"Pardon," Ciel coughed out, shaking the disorientation from his features.

The second party did not utter a word. It merely stood, towering over the ninth grader as he craned his neck to study it.

"Oh, my," Lizzy gasped as she pulled out from behind the man, "I'm sorry, Ciel! We were so busy discussing, we didn't notice you."

Though he did not recall hearing any echoes of conversation as he drew near, Ciel said nothing.

Lizzy came about and touched his elbow, green eyes narrow with concern.

"Are you alright?"

Ciel couldn't help admiring how tenderly she'd said those words; so different from Alois' inquiry a short while back.

"Yeah, it was nothing," Ciel assured her. However, he felt the need to ask: "Excuse me, sir, but…who are you?"

The stranger, who Ciel now realized was not very tall at all, wore a top hat and a blue waistcoat. His face was pale, but young and feminine. Two, lilac-colored eyes studied Ciel closely, and his lips pressed together as though in thought.

Lizzy frowned at her classmate and opened her mouth to respond, but the oddly-dressed one awoke from his stupor at that moment.

"I must apologize," His voice was weak and reedy, but it carried a sense of composure.

He extended a gloved hand, which Ciel observed carefully.

"Doctor Drocell Cains, instructor of first year art and third year ceramics."

In honesty, Ciel detected a suspicious aura lingering beside this intense man who seemed way too young to be a doctor. But he acted as society bade him and extended a hand of his own:

"Ciel Phantomhive."

Lizzy beamed, "I've been waiting years to take Doctor Cains' course! I'm very anxious to begin."

"Yes, I suppose they've all been waiting," Drocell mused in his strange tone. "We'd best make for the classroom."

Whatever sense of order Ciel assumed the doctor's presence would bring failed to arrive. Nothing changed when Drocell approached the desk and removed his hat, revealing loosely brushed locks of auburn hair. If anything, the room grew more boisterous, eager to share opinions about this new teacher's sense of fashion.

"Good morning, students." Doctor Cains began. The teenagers stopped to listen, mostly out of curiosity.

"I am your art director, Doctor Cains. As I have never been one for words, I would prefer that we start immediately."

Drocell indicated the back wall of the classroom, in which boxes of clay and paper pads lay in organized rows.

"If you would all be so kind as to retrieve pencils, paper and modeling clay from the back."

Ciel stood along with the herd of ninth graders and attempted to migrate to the rear of the room, but the teacher's thin voice intercepted him.

"Not you, Phantomhive. You come up here."

Lizzy and Alois sent pitying glances, but turned their backs a moment later. Ciel shrugged and did as he was told, coming to stand beside Drocell at the head of the class.

As the students clambered back to their desks, Ciel asked:

"Might I be allowed to wonder why I cannot participate?"

Drocell did not respond.

"Now," he spoke to the class at large, "You all see Ciel Phantomhive?"

Silence, and a few jagged nods.

"He is your model. Observe his round, deeply hued eyes and balanced face. Observe the tone of his skin and the size of his nose, the shape of his shoulders and torso."

Twenty-one faces stared at Doctor Cains in mute incomprehension.

"I would like each of you to produce a portrait of Mister Phantomhive by the end of the period." Drocell commanded.

"But there are only thirty minutes left! What if we don't finish?" Came a protest.

The art teacher replied flatly, "Then you shall resume another day."

A few other questions followed, but Drocell proved a patient mentor and was quick to put them at ease. Ciel was handed a stool and made to sit as still as possible while dozens of pairs of eyes poked and prodded his body.

"Why me, Doctor?" Ciel uttered through the corner of his mouth.

"Simple," Drocell answered, "You are perfect. You are the ideal specimen for a young boy: delicate, soft, yet firm and flexible. You are the perfect cross between a rose's elegance and a tree's stately beauty."

Ciel opened his mouth, but no words left it. After one student complained, Ciel was made to seal his lips once more. Only a few minutes later was he able to respond:

"…I didn't understand a word of that."

"You didn't have to."

At the end of the period, the Phantomhive was made to sign an agreement that, for the most part, he condoned. He agreed to continue acting as a model, and Drocell offered to give him an automatic pass and exemption from the project.


	9. At Noon, His Pupil, In Class

For Ciel, the journey between art and French classes was only as pleasant as it was lonely, which is to say neither, since Alois took it upon himself to accompany him the whole way.

A tired sigh flowed from his lips. Honestly, Ciel couldn't even decipher what Alois was rambling about anymore. After several minutes of constant chatter, the Phantomhive finally succeeded in tuning him out.

Therefore it was quite a surprise when Mister Trancy suddenly changed direction upon their arrival at French. Ciel watched as Alois waved cheerfully and prepared to leave. Out of morbid curiosity, Ciel called after him:

"You don't take French?"

Alois halted and tossed him a shrug, "I take Special Ed this hour with Miss Annafellows."

"Oh," Ciel replied, as though this answer resolved all questions. It took a bump on the shoulder to shake him from his daze and remind him that there was another class to take.

Unlike Drocell's palpable indifference to the school timetable, this instructor appeared as though she probably lived in the classroom. The room's walls were papered in pastel tones, photographs of France lined the back bulletin, and the whiteboard was drenched in a flourish of blue ink.

Ciel placed his notebook on the desk's surface and then slid into his seat. A small smile perked his lips when he realized that he would have no tormentor this period. Although the little Phantomhive was saddened that he wasn't sitting near Lizzy; her outgoingness and lack of modesty made up for Ciel's brooding and made him feel more comfortable staying quiet.

A chiming bell rang through the school like the first volley of canon fire. Class had begun.

"_Bonjour, __Mes chéris!_ (good morning, my darlings)"

All heads in the room turned to the young brunette at the teacher's desk.

She smiled prettily, pleased with the attention. With a toss of her curled ponytail, the woman continued:

"I am Nina Hopkins, your ninth grade French instructor!"

A bout of muffled comments swept the room, one of which Ciel interpreted to be, 'bitch is high off something'.

Whether Nina simply didn't hear the murmurs or was kind enough to ignore them, she carried on within the next minute.

"French is the language of love and romance," Miss Hopkins told them, pointing out the phrases on the board (none of which the students could read), "and as such, she needs to be handled both gently and with passion."

Ciel frowned, nose wrinkling in distaste. Perhaps this lady really was in possession of narcotics. _Did she just call French a 'she'? _He wondered.

"So in the spirit of the language, I believe that the best way to begin would be to get to know each other better."

The little Phantomhive held back a groan. On the other hand, he was somewhat thankful that Miss Hopkins elected to conduct a full-fledged interrogation on every student, since it gave Ciel some time to sleep.

As he was holed up towards the back of the classroom, all Ciel had to do was fold his arms and rest his head. It would be another thirty minutes before Nina even made it to his row.

Unfortunately, though it took her some time, Nina still arrived at his desk. And she did not approve of Ciel's nap at all.

"Excuse me, young sir."

A harsh snap brought the ninth grader to consciousness, and a snicker rippled past him. He swore he was getting by eight hours of sleep a night…

Ciel blanched; Nina's dark eyes seemed thrice their size when she was this close. And those eyes were narrow indeed.

"Might you tell me your name?"

A few of the other children laughed, and this brought an indignant glow to Ciel's cheeks. This sense of shame, combined with the boy's sluggishness and all around irritation brought about a unique reaction:

"No."

Miss Hopkins raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"_Pourquoi pas? _(why not)"

Now the laughter was gone. Few had understood Nina's challenge, and its proclamation drew in new stares and an air of tension.

But Ciel could only grin.

"_Parce que je n'ai pas jugé nécessaire de m'expliquer une garce comme vouz. (_because I don't find it necessary to explain myself to a trollop like you)_" _

Something fierce flashed in Nina's gaze and her mouth twitched. However, she could not help relinquishing an impressed nod.

Nina stood by his desk for an entire minute, glaring at the dark-haired boy below her wordlessly. Ciel swallowed but refused to blink, unwilling to lose this strange game of chicken they'd started playing.

Eventually, the French teacher gave a curt 'humph' and moved on. Ciel breathed an almost inaudible sigh of relief when the next student was commanded to reveal their birthplace and family name.

And for the second time that day, the little Phantomhive found himself wishing he could kiss Sebastian on the cheek (which, he hoped, was not about to become a habit).

-TT-

One of the things Ciel so detested about this school was the fact that the lockers were so difficult to open. His usual homeroom locker wasn't too bad; on a good day he could pry it into submission between two and four minutes.

Now, the cabinet in the boys' locker room outside the gym was another story.

The fact that he'd arrived in the tiled, vaguely smelly room a quarter hour before class seemed to make no difference. No matter how much effort Ciel exerted or what tools he used, the locker was very clearly staying shut today.

He collapsed onto the bench behind him, heaving from fatigue. Sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped from his nose, and the ninth grader dabbed at it with his hand. He couldn't help the rattled moan of frustration that shook him. After all, there was only one gym uniform in the universe that fit the little Phantomhive, and it was now completely unattainable…

"Here, let me get that for you."

Ciel was too exhausted to even look up. He nodded and focused on breathing as one of his kind-hearted classmates fiddled with the combination lock.

It was a miracle when the cabinet's rusty hinges gave way. Ciel jumped to his feet, relief and gratitude washing away his previous misery.

However if he'd been paying closer attention to his rescuer, his reaction wouldn't have come so naturally.

"Did you miss me?" Alois asked, giggling madly and throwing an arm around Ciel's shoulders.

"Alois-!" Ciel shuddered. His saliva hitched in his windpipe and caused a bout of coughs.

"Good thing I came around when I did; you looked ready to collapse!" The Trancy boy declared, disentangling himself from Ciel in order to stick his hands in the cabinet. Ciel noted that Alois was already dressed in the PE uniform, and its bright colors did nothing to tranquilize his personality.

Alois turned back to him, offering the folded shirt and shorts as a gift.

"Hurry up now," He urged his classmate, who took the clothes with caution, "best get changed. I hear there's a new teacher this year, and he's much stricter than the previous."

Alois left the room before Ciel could even point out that neither one of them had attended London High last year.

With no other distractions available, the ninth grader was free to pull on the new set of clothes. He was a bit squeamish about his height and build, though, as he realized most other males his age were developing growth spurts and muscles. Meanwhile, he still appeared about twelve years old, and the only thing impressive about his height was its incredible absence.

Even Alois was taller than him.

Ciel shook his head, blamed his thoughts on his slim diet, and exited the locker room. Indeed, the view that awaited him there supported Trancy's theory that the new teacher was strict: the better half of the class was lined up in tight formation.

The boy was quick to fall in place. He peeked out from behind the others and caught a glimpse of the instructor, a young, auburn haired man of average features. He held a clipboard in his grip and was flipping through its pages, occasionally glancing upwards and then back down. Matching names and faces, perhaps?

After a suitable amount of time passed, the teacher's clipboard fell away and he cleared his throat:

"Good day, everyone," He said, his voice strong and authoritative, "welcome to Physical Education. My name is Fred Abberline."

Though the man's tones were compelling and bold, Ciel still found himself drifting off after the usual introductions. He'd always been able to skip out on PE in middle school, so nothing in the class really interested him. And Abberline's speech about how one's health is one's life was just too cliché to be likeable.

What Ciel did hear (after having lost all sensation in his feet) was the order to run ten laps around the room.

Running was never a thing Ciel enjoyed, but he decided to grin and bear it this time. A quick look at the clock revealed half the period was already wasted anyway, so a little class participation wouldn't kill him.

The first lap went by without incident. Ciel's pace was slow and controlled; he was essentially just following the kids in front of him.

"Hey! Ciel!"

A certain perky voice caused a deliberate increase in speed.

This turned out to be a good thing, though, because a glance over his shoulder revealed Abberline had a grade book and a pencil. The laps were probably his idea of pop quiz, something to get a general understanding of the class' level. They locked eyes when Ciel looked back. Good. The boy smiled and slowed down a touch.

But some sort of trouble sprouted around lap four. While he'd been successful in avoiding Alois, he'd been less lucrative in managing his breathing. Sweat slickened the Phantomhive's collar and hoarse gasps flushed through his lungs.

Ciel only dropped to a walk when inhaling became more like sucking in air through a straw. A very thin straw that someone had wrapped both hands around.

The ninth grader began to retch, gagging on some invisible substance in his throat. But this struggle only made his body sorer, and his knees buckled.

The deafening surge of his own choking erased all sound. Ciel's fingers tingled and his eyes watered. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd made some sort of grave mistake, somehow.

It was as though he'd suddenly been plunged underwater. Icy streams chilled his skin and froze his damp body. Breathing was now as difficult as running at full sprint, and it was becoming harder with every moment. Fingers tightened around his throat.

He was sinking, deeper, deeper, deeper…and everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes, it was to shocking silence. Ciel no longer gagged, sputtered, or coughed.

The boy studied his surroundings with wide, blue eyes. He was propped up in a hospital bed, and the room was remarkably sterile. To his right there stood a small table with a bouquet of flowers.

The Phantomhive was about to start wondering where his guardian was when the door opened.

"Seba-"

But it wasn't Sebastian.

"Ciel?" Alois gasped in the doorway, raising a hand to his mouth, "Oh, thank goodness you're awake!"

Ciel didn't have time to comment on the absurdness of the Trancy's outfit- gone were the shorts and uniform shirt, replaced by a navy blue gown- before his visitor approached.

Alois rushed to the bed, clutching at its white sheets earnestly.

"Please tell me you're alright!"

This level of lunacy was impressive even for him, Ciel related with a grimace.

"I'm fine, Alo-"

Without warning, the other boy leapt onto the bed and crawled on all fours, suspending his face right before Ciel's.

"I'm glad," Said Alois with a grin.

Ciel swallowed, pushing the bile from his esophagus.

"Now, I've been very worried while you were sleeping," Alois continued, lids lowered in an expression of seduction, "and it's rude to make a good friend worry so."

"I'm afraid I don't-!"

But to his indignation, Alois silenced him with an index finger on his lips.

"It's time for you to pay me back…"

"Alois-!" Ciel protested, thrashing about in the bed. But the older boy had him pinned down, trapping his hips with his knees and bearing down on him like a spider on a butterfly.

"Calm down, Ciel." Alois murmured, brushing younger boy's neck with his lips. He added in a whisper: "This won't hurt a bit."

Ciel bolted upright with a shriek that questioned his gender.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Panting heavily, the Phantomhive looked around to see that he was in the school infirmary, sitting in one of the lumpy beds he met Soma in the other day.

Just a few feet from him stood a young, pigtailed woman with large glasses. She was holding an inhaler and her lip quivered threateningly.

"I didn't mean to scare you, no I didn't!"

"Where is he?" Ciel demanded, "Is he gone?"

"Who?"

"Alois Trancy," Ciel spat the name like a feared taboo, gaze darting about urgently, "didn't he come in to see me?"

"Trancy?" The woman repeated, frowning. Eventually she shook her head, pigtails swishing as she did so. "No, didn't see him, sorry."

Ciel crumpled against the bedframe, infinitely grateful. "Just a dream," he muttered, "Just a dream…"

"Miss Mey-Rin?"

The voice of the newcomer was slightly familiar, but the ninth grader was too tired to place it. He watched with heavily lidded eyes as the nurse turned to greet a man with auburn hair.

"Oh, hello, Mister Abberline."

Ah yes, the PE teacher. Ciel remembered PE, but not nearly as vividly as he did his recent nightmare.

"Ciel!" Abberline exclaimed, taking a seat at his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

The Phantomhive shrugged, trying to dismiss his discomfort at being on a first name basis with someone he'd practically never met.

"Alright, I suppose."

Abberline exhaled and a wave of relief visibly rolled through him. However, when he spoke again it was with irritation:

"Why didn't you tell me you had asthma?"

Ciel thought. The truth was that Alois' outstanding creepiness had caused him to forget. But silence seemed to be enough of an answer of Abberline, because he just heaved another sigh.

"Do you know why I became a gym teacher, Ciel?" The man asked, risking a small smile.

The Phantomhive didn't know or care, but he made it a point to appear interested.

"Because there are so many children in this world who get sick. And not all of them get better."

As he spoke, Abberline's eyes filled with some sort of hopeful determination.

"So if I can teach kids how to take care of themselves, maybe I can save a few lives. I'm going to be a father soon myself, you know, and I want my son or daughter to live a wonderful, healthy life."

"I care about my students, Ciel, and you're one of them." Abberline pointed out, "You can tell me about your medical problems. I won't deduct a thing from your grade."

Staying quiet seemed to be the best course of action, considering Ciel wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about.

But he did have one question:

"What, er, exactly happened in class, sir?"

Abberline sat back, "Asthma attack. You must have been trying too hard, lost control. I've never seen one that bad, though."

"You…carried me here?" Ciel felt his face heat up, another bodily facet beyond his management.

It explained his dream, though.

"As fast as I could," Abberline grinned, "you're a strong little man to have recovered so fast. I respect that."

A bell rang in the distance, and Fred regarded it warily.

"Lunch hour," He said, rising to his feet. He gave a small wave, bade Ciel farewell and then trotted out the door.

"A handful, that one." The ninth grader commented to himself, sighing lightly. Were all of his teachers certifiable? At least morning classes were over.

"I'll say," Mey-Rin cooed, pressing both hands to her blushing cheeks.

"May I go?"

"Oh, yes," She cleared her throat and helped Ciel out of the bed, "A puff and a short rest, I'd say you're clean."

The Phantomhive nodded and pulled on a school sweater from the opposite bed.

"Off to the cafeteria with you, then." Mey-Rin shooed him, "Wouldn't want to waste a good break, no we wouldn't."


	10. In The Afternoon, His Pupil, At Lunch

-TT-

It was a bit of a trek, having to first return to the locker room and pick up his trousers, then walk all the way to the cafeteria. The morning's events left Ciel with a gnawing hunger he was keen to dispose of.

However he hadn't been expecting a call the moment he stepped into the room:

"Phantomhive! Ah, there he is- I knew we were missing a person."

Ciel blinked as a youthful, bespectacled man beckoned him to a table. As he approached, he noticed his class gathered around the booth messily, and there appeared to be another group as well. The other students of the school went about their lunches without so much as a second glance to the meeting.

"Very good, very good," said the energetic adult, tapping his fingers on the table, "I think we're ready to begin now."

The Phantomhive studied this man who held the attentions of over twenty-five teens. He barely looked over twenty himself, which may be the reason he was given this job. What fascinated the boy was that the bottom layer of their mentor's hair had been dyed an inky black, giving him an intriguing aura.

"The name's Ronald Knox, head of student activities," Ronald introduced himself with a winning grin, "And this is what I like to call a High School Hookup!"

No one said anything, and Ciel wondered if they were all sniggering inwardly. Anyone would at a ridiculous title like that.

"Alright, here's the deal: I reserved these four lunch tables especially for the ninth and twelfth grades." Ronald gestured thoroughly with his hands as he talked, "You see, these classes share a special bond, what with the seniors leaving home and the freshies tryin' to hold their own in a strange new world."

"I thought it'd be best to donate this lunch hour to our new High School Hookup system! Each Senior picks a Freshman to mentor over the course of the year." Mister Knox added as a side point, "Groups are allowed, but please keep it below five people."

With that, the outgoing blonde jumped to his feet and waved enthusiastically.

"Well, don't all just sit there, mingle! Converse! If there are any questions, I'm down at the administrative office."

Ciel waited until he was gone to shrug the idea off. He noted a few of his classmates were already timidly waylaying Seniors, but personally Ciel preferred to waylay a scone. He really was starving.

The only reason he stopped was because he spotted a familiar face. One of the twelfth graders, a short girl with her hair in two buns…he'd seen her before somewhere. He remembered those cat-like eyes.

"This is my friend, Ciel Phantomhive."

Lizzy came out of nowhere, towing along a charming Senior with a wavy half-pony hairstyle.

Ciel turned to meet the two of them, surprised.

"Ciel, this is my Hookup!" Lizzy laughed and tugged on her upperclassman's arm. The Phantomhive would have found the gesture painful, but this young woman blushed and smiled. She looked lonely.

"Good afternoon, Mister Phantomhive," She greeted pleasantly, "I'm Paula."

The ninth grader returned her gesture, genuinely pleased to have met someone with a sane mind and good manners.

"Nice to meet you," Ciel smiled.

Lizzy dragged Paula off to eat lunch, and so Ciel was left to wander about once more. It actually seemed like most of the students were enjoying the exchange. Honestly, once Ciel succeeded in snatching some food, he didn't find it altogether disagreeable either.

Until he felt three shadows behind him and a trio of mutterings fell on his ears:

"Rich kid."

"I heard he's related to the English teacher."

"The Headmistress, too."

When Ciel didn't turn around, the group of similar voices made another three comments:

"Faustus doesn't like him."

"Does Faustus like anyone?"

"He likes Annafellows' ass."

Finally, the little Phantomhive came about to face his upperclassmen. As he suspected, there were three of them. Each sported a mop of dark hair, a pair of brown eyes, and (possibly by coincidence) burgundy-colored sweatshirts. They looked close, related, probably.

"Can I help you?" Ciel asked slowly. He watched the trio with distrust.

"Want to be our Hookup?" Asked the light-toned boy in the middle.

"Sounds dirty." Remarked the left one in a soft voice.

"You look like a girl." Put in the last triplet, a tenor.

"Are you three cousins or something?" Ciel wondered. He couldn't help being curious, as vulgar as they were.

"We're triplets."

"Timber," Left.

"Thompson," Middle.

"And Canterbury." Right.

"Ah, I see," The Phatomhive replied grittily, "are you always this foul mouthed?"

They always seemed to speak in the same order, starting with Thompson and ending with Canterbury.

"Depends what you call foul."

"We just speak our mind."

"Better than hiding the truth like everyone else."

Ciel frowned, "Do you ever speak in full sentences?"

"A lot of questions, this one has."

"He's short, too."

"I still think he looks like a girl."

Ciel understood that this conversation was going nowhere (and these were most certainly not his destined Hookups) and turned to leave, but at that moment another boy made himself present:

"Oh, would you leave him alone!"

The triplets were startled and backed away as the newcomer approached. While only a little taller than Ciel, it was clear this student was powerful. His sea-green eyes were narrow with exasperation as he took a stance beside Ciel.

"Go find someone else to pick on." He ordered in his curiously wobbly voice.

"Ugh, it's the freak."

"Be nice, Timber, I hear he doesn't have any parents."

"Isn't he the kid who destroyed the greenhouse last year?"

The proclaimed 'freak' held his temper and simply repeated his command a second time, "I said off with you!"

The triplets withdrew, muttering amongst themselves.

"Sorry about them," the boy turned to Ciel and sighed, "They're unbelievably rude sometimes."

Ciel wanted to add _'all of the time', _but he stayed quiet.

"Anyway, I'm Finnian."

Finnian stuck out a hand, which the ninth grader took in his own.

"Ciel Phantomhive. And, er, thanks for your help."

Finny, as he liked to be called, seemed to be a likeable fellow. He was a touch naïve and suffered from 'super strength' (whatever that was), but he was honest and Ciel didn't despise his company.

They sat together during the lunch period. The Phantomhive boy even considered becoming his Hookup, since the relationship was required and Finny at least showed some interest in him. As they talked, and ate, another twelfth grader sat himself down at the table.

"Hey," Ciel said, reaching out to make the stranger welcome.

The other male, a sullen looking kid with light hair and lime colored eyes, remained silent. Ciel noticed the charm necklace he wore, a thin leather band lined with metal snakes.

"Er, hello?"

Finny put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, "That's Snake. He doesn't talk."

"He doesn't talk?" The ninth grader reiterated, confused, "What do you mean? Why do you call him that?"

Finny shrugged, "No one knows his real name. Rumor is that his charm necklace controls him, and the little snake charms speak in his head."

"I can hear you," Snake said loudly.

Both students stared at him in bewilderment, but the light haired boy quickly added:

"says Emily."

"See?" Finnian whispered, "the snakes. Each one has a name."

Ciel cleared his throat and offered an open palm.

"Well, in any event, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

Snake watched his hand carefully, and after several moments he replied:

"No one has ever attempted to befriend me before. This is a most exciting development, says Wilde."

An interesting expression flickered over Snake's face as he extended a hand of his own. Ciel thought it might have been a smile.

"It's nice to meet you, too," Snake told him, "Says Oscar."

Finny watched on in awe. The Phantomhive returned to his lunch, but was soon forced to stop when he caught a glimpse of the cafeteria clock.

"I need to get going," He told his two new Senior friends, "I have Mister Faustus next, and I wouldn't dare be late twice."

"You were late on the first day?" Finny questioned, worried, "That's awful. Faustus is immensely strict."

"He's a monster, says Goethe."

Ciel grinned, glad to be of shared opinion.

"That's certainly true," he agreed, standing up and disentangling from the table's bench, "but I think all that messiness can be avoided if I arrive ten minutes early."

"Alright then," Finny smiled and waved, "nice meeting you, and thanks for being my Hookup!"

"Good luck, says Keats." Snake related.

When Ciel bounded from the room, he thought maybe ninth grade wouldn't be too miserable with wacky friends like those.

-TT-


	11. In The Evening, His Pupil, Scandalized

After taking pains to double check the room number, Ciel successfully located Mister Faustus' Algebra class on the second floor.

He slowed to a casual walk, heaving a sigh of relief as he drew near to the room. According to his watch, he still had about twelve minutes to spare (the lunchroom clock must have been off). This time his bag was loaded with notebooks, loose paper, pens, pencils, and a textbook he'd already read the first chapter of. There was nothing Faustus could throw at him that he couldn't deflect.

So Ciel was relatively surprised when he discovered the door slightly ajar, and when he heard soft murmurs flowing from the room.

Instincts taking over, the ninth grader wedged himself in the doorframe and peeked into the room, observing with steady eyes.

The tall, intimidating math teacher stood at the board, copying something onto it with a black dry-erase marker. He stopped now and then to adjust his glasses, but he wasn't the one talking. No, the voice originated from the young woman sitting on his desk, a leg crossed over her knee.

"It's not like this job is permanent though," she was saying, her voice a disinterested drawl.

Mister Faustus said nothing, and Ciel took advantage of the silence to study this woman more closely. She looked vaguely familiar, yet he couldn't place her: a healthy, tan complexion, silvery hair (must have been dyed) dropping to her waist, painted lips, large, indigo hued eyes-

-And (Ciel blushed) a truly voluptuous figure.

"I mean, I doubt I'll be here long myself. I don't have the patience for teaching, and ever since Luka-"

Her pitch cracked and she interrupted herself. The silence Faustus seemed to be trying to enforce won its way, and the woman cast her gaze downward. Who was Luka? Wondered Ciel.

Slowly, the beautiful girl looked back up towards the professor. She eyed him wistfully, Ciel noted, as though searching for some sort of approval, or feedback. But Faustus ignored her, continuing to draw numbers on the board as though she hadn't spoken at all.

Perhaps they were related. It was a possibility, Ciel mused, though not a certain one. He could see no shared physical traits except a general attractiveness.

The seconds ticked by as the couple remained motionless. After a while of watching him, the woman slipped from her perch on the desk and walked up to Faustus. The Phantomhive regarded her shoes, polished black and high heeled.

She came behind him and inserted her arms beneath his, resting her face in his back.

"I miss you," She murmured, "you don't visit me as often anymore."

Ciel scratched out the siblings suggestion in his mind, replacing it with lovers. But that couldn't be it, could it? Faustus was the most detached, emotionless husk of a man he'd ever seen.

Faustus stopped writing. His hand froze in its position, still grasping the marker. Mystery girl nuzzled deeper into him, and he heaved a sigh. Reluctantly, he placed the cap on the writing utensil and set it down on the board's tray.

"Hannah-"

"Don't," Hannah sounded bitter, "I already know what you want to say and I'm tired of hearing it."

Mister Faustus' tone was biting, but he made no move to loosen her embrace, "Then you should listen the first time."

She shook her head and her arms tightened around his middle, as though she could make the words go away by pressing him.

"Hannah, we aren't together anymore."

He gave her a minute to let the statement sink in. Meanwhile, Ciel's mind was racing; he was beginning to see Mister Faustus in some new, alien light: not as a heartless devil but a tired, lovelorn man.

Soon, the professor went back to his writing. But Hannah did not give up. Instead, she rose to her tiptoes and planted her chin on his shoulder. Then she reached up to his ear and licked the back of his lobe tentatively.

For the second time, his hand wavered.

Sensing his hesitation and taking it as a cue to proceed, Hannah's lips closed around the earlobe briefly. Following that, she slid down his neck, leaving a trail of kisses as she travelled.

"Hannah…" He said again, but this time it was more of a guttural sound. A groan from the back of his throat as she started over, wrapping her hands around his collar.

Her kisses grew in fervor, and when she raised her hand to caress his face he grabbed it. With her tiny palm clasped in his, Mister Faustus turned around. Ciel could see from his vantage point in the doorway that both their temperatures had changed dramatically; the math teacher's ordinarily flaccid coloring flushed the color of wine.

And then, without warning, Professor Faustus seized Hannah's hips and covered her mouth with his own.

Hannah moaned when she could but was generally never given the opportunity to open her lips. Her lover's hands shifted along her body, almost painfully gripping the luscious curves of her abdomen. She leaned her weight against his, fastening her arms around his neck. Faustus let out a sound Ciel could not rightly classify.

Somehow, they staggered towards the desk. It was there that Mister Faustus shoved Hannah against the front and she tore off his glasses, casting them away on the table. They were forgotten in a clatter, and soon the two were making out again. Faustus bore down on her so forcefully it almost seemed as though he were trying to crush her, to mash the both of them into one being. It must have hurt, but Hannah was gasping with pleasure.

The scene only escalated from there. Ciel's own body was already blushing tremendously and he wondered how much longer they would go on before noticing him. Forget him, before noticing that class began in under six minutes. This hardly seemed acceptable classroom behavior.

"Claude," Hannah cried quietly, his face buried in the crook of her neck, "Oh, Claude…!"

No, Ciel's eyes were wide and he bit his tongue, definitely not approved classroom behavior!

The ninth grader's cheeks were so hot they could've heated the school if Hannah and Claude weren't so busy doing that themselves. Sweat popped under his armpits and the Phantomhive's mind informed him that he really should say something, lest another student appear on the spot early.

There was a split second where Ciel felt a tickling sensation at the edge of his nostril.

And then blood came in a torrent.

Ciel's hands flew to his nose, making every attempt to stop the flood. However, he realized a moment too late that this motion caused him to drop his bookbag-

Resulting in a loud, very interruptive THONK.

Claude straightened immediately and whisked around. Bizarrely, Ciel thought that despite his heated face, wide eyes and panting mouth, Mister Faustus was actually a strikingly gorgeous man.

The next thought Ciel entertained was that when Faustus finished stomping from the desk to the door, there was going to be one less Phantomhve in the universe.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Mister Faustus!" Ciel blurted, stemming his nose with one hand and wildly gesturing with the other. Claude loomed over him, lips set in a firm, livid line. "I didn't mean to stop you or anything-!"

Good god, now even Ciel wanted to murder himself. That sounded awful. That was all shades of wrong.

Shockingly, Mister Faustus did nothing. Well, he snatched Ciel by his sweater, lifted him an inch off the ground and snarled (in a strangely perfumed breath):

"You saw nothing, understand?"

But he didn't harm him. Once Ciel conveyed his agreement by impersonating a bobblehead, Faustus let him go.

"Who's there?" Hannah called over from the other side of the classroom. Ciel noted that the first few buttons of her blouse had been undone, baring the tops of her breasts.

"Er," The ninth grader stammered, caught between pretending that he saw nothing and polite abstinence.

"Oh, lunch break is over already!" The woman exclaimed, hastily fixing her shirt and hopping off the desk. She took another second to straighten her skirt, which had been pushed up around her thighs earlier.

"I have to get to the Special Ed class. I'll call you!" Was all Hannah left when she whooshed from the room.

Special Ed, Ciel ran that through his mind. He'd heard it before. Didn't Alois mention that he took a class with Miss Annafellows…?

Oh, no, the Phantomhive swallowed. Annafellows; Hannah. Hannah Annafellows. She and Claude Faustus were having an affair.

Ciel almost said it aloud when Claude asked for the value of ex, too. Except he knew that if he'd done that, Sebastian wouldn't have found enough pieces of him to bury.

-TT-

There was a certain prospect that the library was just a room that transcended space. Somehow, even though the school always buzzed with some sort of noise and at present the area was filled with the entire freshmen class, the library remained a peaceful and quiet work area.

In a way, the silence was so tactile it was uncomfortable.

But the Phantomhive put those thoughts from his mind and focused on his computer's monitor. It was telling him that the books on child psychology were left of the attendant's desk, third shelf.

With his questions answered, Ciel gathered his notebook and pencil from the computer table and rose to his feet. He grumbled to himself as he strode across the hall of paper, relating that this essay would be so much easier to prepare for if students were allowed unlimited Internet. Naturally, the network blocks permitted sites like Wikipedia and other encyclopedias, but most everything else (including, to the ninth grader's frustration, surveys and news reports) had been deemed inappropriate.

The boy was in such a sullen mood that he stalked right past the library attendant, a twitchy, sharp-featured woman with red hair. She leaned over her desk and tried to snag Ciel's wrist, but clumsiness caught her ankle and her face landed in an inkpad. The librarian groaned into the mat of black as her target marched past, a storm cloud hounding him closely.

As Ciel scanned the dusty bookshelves for the magazine bearing his precious study, his memory wandered to the beginning of the period. They'd only found their seats when Sebastian announced the assignment: a persuasive paper on the topic of remedial lessons. Are the students for it, against it, why, state your sources, et cetera, et cetera…dreadfully dull stuff it was, and Ciel had not the patience to write it. He could only wonder in stupefaction how his half-brother had the patience to read it.

So absorbed was he in his ponderings that it took the Phantomhive a minute to realize the presence beside him.

"Hey, I have something private to discuss with you."

Ciel leapt back and threw his arms in the air, nearly losing his notebook in the process. It was all he could do to keep from shrieking, though his expression was more than enough to send the librarian into a panic:

"Listen, it's not so unusual for an attendant to check on how the kids are doing during a research period!" She protested anxiously, olive eyes darting behind scarlet glasses.

"Hold on," The ninth grader frowned. Now that the initial shock was gone, he took a closer peek at the bookkeeper and perceived her strong jawbone and…fake eyelashes? "Are you…?"

The librarian of sexually ambiguous gender cut him off, speaking in quick, hushed tones, "There's a rumor going around that you and Mister Michaelis are related-"

"Are you a man?" Ciel asked disbelievingly, blush in his cheeks and revulsion in his voice.

Again, the attendant ignored the question.

"It's true, isn't it? You and Mister Michaelis are brothers?"

The reality of the attendant's sexuality threw the young Phantomhive and made him feel violated, for some reason. He bit his lip and his forehead prickled uncomfortably, but in the end Ciel could see no reason to hide the secret.

"Half-brothers," he corrected grimly.

"Whatever," the man tossed his wrist in a feminine manner, "what's important is that you're close to him."

The ninth grader's eyes narrowed and he regarded his assailant attentively. Where was this going, he wondered…

"What sort of woman does he go for?"

"Why?"

The transvestite uttered a groan of annoyance, but quickly recomposed himself, "I want to ask him out, but I don't know how to approach him."

Ciel watched as the man straightened and his features softened, flushing.

"He's so tall and intimidating," The librarian sighed lovingly, "whenever I get near him, all my words just shrivel up; I don't know what to say!"

The prickly feeling on his scalp returned and Ciel could find nothing to answer with. By now the other male was gripping himself around the elbows and appeared to be swooning.

Soon the bookkeeper came to his relative senses and leaned closer to the student, "So tell me. What does he look for in a prospective life partner?"

"Who are you, again?" Ciel asked weakly, still extremely disturbed and somewhat unaccepting of this crossdresser's interest in Sebastian.

"Glad you asked!" He giggled (an act that sent shivers up Ciel's spine), "Grell Sutcliff, proud member of the Grim Reaper Association!"

"I see," Ciel replied, though he didn't have the slightest clue what was transpiring.

Grell cleared his throat and snatched the boy's shoulders, startling him.

"Spill already! What does your brother want in a romantic relationship?"

At first, Ciel planned to warn the psycho about Sebastian's unfeeling personality and disdain for romance in general, but he quickly shut his mouth. Grell was delivering him an astonishing amount of attention; the transvestite was practically snagging every exhalation from the boy's mouth.

And so a marvelous idea took root. It spread through Ciel's mind like a fungus, dropping the perfect sentences onto his tongue and a smirk on his lips.

"Actually," He began slowly, stretching out the word for dramatic effect. As expected, Grell held his breath. "Sebastian has always been very fond of pet-names."

"Pet-names?" The attendant raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, of course," Ciel nodded, "and he absolutely loves it when people compliment his figure. Try to be original, though."

"Ah."

"Oh, silly me," the Phantomhive chuckled, genuinely enjoying threading such lies, "I nearly forgot. He adores public displays of affection, positively adores them: hugs, kisses, touching, all of it."

"Er," Grell stuttered, a wave of confusion crossing his face, "are you quite certain? I mean, from his appearance, Mister Michaelis just doesn't seem like the…well, the type-"

"Excuse me, but are _you _his half-brother?" Ciel challenged.

Grell redacted immediately, "Oh no, I believe you. You're right, I'm sorry."

"Good. I'll tell you now, though, he's going to pretend he doesn't like it. He'll push you away, rebuke you, and he might even smack you a bit. But don't get discouraged; he's a whore for attention."

"Understood," Grell grinned, "My, my, this is perfect! Here I thought he'd be a stuck up little professor, but now I see we're basically the same. He could be my soul mate!"

"Yes," Ciel smiled as well, glad to indulge in the happiness, "Yes, he could be. He's been so lonely lately…"

Grell blushed madly and steam seemed to shoot from his nostrils.

"My poor noodlekins, lonely!" He exclaimed, spinning and dancing about as he began his quest for Michaelis' affections, "not for long, he's not!"

The saying was true. Revenge was impeccably sweet. And how fitting indeed, as it was through their very relation that Sebastian humiliated Ciel in the first place.


End file.
